Redemption
by petrelli heiress
Summary: After the Walker Incident Angel told Sylar never to return to L.A. So why is he back? And in the offices of Wolfram and Hart? Doesn't everyone know it's not good to manipulate Sylar?
1. Prologue

**Something You Said**

**Author's Note: I could not resist! It was just screaming at me! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Angel**

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"Angel," he said his lip curling.

The brooding vampire nodded. Well, of course he would. That was his name. "Sylar. I thought I told you never to come back here after the...incident with the Walkers?"

Sylar snorted. Like he was really going to take orders from a bloody vampire. "Yeah. Just like you said you'd never work for pure evil." He squirmed in the uncomfortable chair across from Angel. He waved his hands to encompass where they were. "And now I see you're working for Wolfram and Hart. How's that working out for you?"

Angel sighed. He _really _didn't like this guy. His attitude was all wrong. It somehow grated. And yet somehow...every girl in the office found him exceedingly attractive. Even some of the guys did. He tried not to picture Lorne's reaction when he found out the super powered serial killer was back.

"I am not working _for _them, I'm working _with _them," Angel began.

"And that's better how?" Sylar asked, genuinely curious.

Angel sighed again. The dickhead had a point. Sometimes he didn't know why he was working with Wolfram and Hart. And sometimes he knew with perfect clarity.

He decided to change the subject in any case. "Now," he said, opening Sylar's rather massive folder. "I hear you might need some representation sometime soon?"

Sylar leaned back in the chair, trying to ignore his discomfort. "And where did you hear that from?"

Angel gave him a look. It simply said, 'Like I'm going to tell you."

Sylar tried not to look too sullen. Oh, he knew who Angel had heard from. That damn Peter Petrelli, still thinking he was capable of redemption. Sometimes – no, wait, scratch that. He hated his future self for putting the thoughts in that whiny emo's pathetic, not at all attractive, head.

"Now, listen here, Angel," he said, standing up, thus giving himself the advantage of height. "You can tell Peter Petrelli that he can take his representation and shove it up his a--"

Angel smiled. "Who said it was Peter Petrelli? I don't think I did." He looked over at an amused Spike. "Did you hear me mention Peter Petrelli?"

Spike snorted at the sudden confusion on Sylar's face. Unlike Angel he didn't mind the serial killer. But sometimes there are things you just can't resist laughing at. "No, I don't think you did."

Sylar sat down, confused. "Okay, then who did?" Who would, other than Peter?

Angel gave him that look again and then closed the folder. "Spike, would you take Mr Sylar to the nearest conference room?"

Spike was silent. Angel said, a slight tinge of annoyance clouding his voice, "Spike..."

The bleach blonde vampire rolled his eyes, extinguishing his cigarette in one of Angel's potted plants. He gestured to Sylar, who with a final glare at Angel, departed after him.

Angel was silent for a moment. "Did you hear anything interesting?" he appeared to say to the empty air.

Peter Petrelli appeared in the corner, surprisingly close to where Spike had been leaning. He grinned, in a very happy way. "Oh yes."

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**At the moment this is just a very random one-shot. But if you like, I can take it further. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm taking this further, much further :)**

**Review please. **


	2. Old Faces

**Author's Note: I'm liking this more and more. Little background is in order, I suppose. This is set in Angel season 5 but basically it just has them working for Wolfram and Hart and little else. Also set in Heroes volume 3 except without the whole pesky Arthur Petrelli-ruins-everything storyline. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Angel**

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Angel leaned back in his far more comfortable chair. "So, Peter, what do you have planned for the lovely Mr. Sylar?" he asked, his voice rife with sarcasm.

Peter grinned, crossing his arms as he rested against the wall. "Now, that would be telling."

Angel was silent for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at the empath. "Why do you even care? Hasn't he tried to kill you more than once?"

Peter was silent. When his future self had taken him to the future he had met the man Sylar would become. Peter had become convinced that Sylar only needed a push in the right direction. That, of course, had been far from the truth. He'd tried reasoning with the man but to no avail. Or, at least, none that he could see. This saddened him because he – and he alone – knew the true extent of their relationship in the future.

He glanced up to see the vampire watching him intently. He smiled. "I have my reasons."

Angel said, slightly bemused, "I'm sure you do."

Lorne chose that moment to burst through his doors, a great smile plastered across his green face. "Angel cakes!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you warn me Tall Dark and Handsome was back?"

Peter smirked as Angel tried unsuccessfully to allow the ground the swallow him whole.

***

Spike led Sylar to an apparently empty conference room. He lit another cigarette and watched Sylar thoughtfully. "Why don't you just tell them?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Sylar looked up at him and grinned. "Everyone has their secrets."

Spike snorted. "Some more than most."

He left before Sylar could say another word, possibly to ask why the hell he was in the room to begin with. He gazed around, slightly bored as he heard the door click shut and the key turn in the loc k behind him. He smiled. As if locks would ever stop him.

"You know, I don't appreciate being locked up," Sylar said mildly, his back to the door. "Believe me, it never ends well."

"Oh, I think you'll find I'm quite capable of looking after myself," a gruff British voice said behind him. He spun around, wondering absently where the sudden influx of Brits had come from, only to find nothing there. He frowned.

"Okay, enough," Sylar said, more angry than afraid. He couldn't actually remember the last time he'd been afraid, come to think of it. "Show yourself."

Someone sighed, rather disgruntled, and he spun to face the other side of the room. A bearded man gazed at him, amusement in his eyes. "Spoil my fun, why don't you," he said.

Sylar blinked. "An invisible man?"

The man nodded, waiting for his reaction. He didn't have long to wait.

Grinning, Sylar exclaimed, "You've met him, haven't you? Ha! I _knew _Peter was behind all this."

Just as he was giving himself a mental pat on the back for figuring it all the man said mildly, "Why is your first thought always of him?"

Sylar blinked. "Huh? Who?" What was the guy talking about?

The man smiled and sat down. He'd been standing for quite some time and was relieved that he was finally able to sit. He wasn't getting any younger. "Peter Petrelli. Do you really think he is behind everything?"

His mouth agape, Sylar stared at the man. "Who cares? He's behind this, isn't he?"

Instead of answering, the man returned to his feet. "Now, we're going to play a little game," the man said, picking up a long wooden pole left conveniently on the table. "I'm going to say something – really, it could be anything – and you _aren't _going to think of Peter Petrelli. I know," he said, spying Sylar's incredulous expression. "It will be difficult to begin with but eventually..." He bashed him behind the knees, making him stumble. "...you'll get the hang of it."

"What the--" Sylar began only be interrupted by the man shouting, "Water!"

Oh god. His dream last night...the ice cubes...Peter trailing them down his chest...

The pole seemingly came out of nowhere, hitting him square in the chest. He doubled over in pain.

"Oh, come on!" the man exclaimed. "You can do better than that! Ground!"

Damn those stupid dreams! He remembered Peter pushing him to the ground...

His head pounded from another strike from the pole. What the hell was this anyway? How was this supposed to redeem him? Or did someone just take pleasure in seeing him get wacked repeatedly by some British guy with a stick?

"Rain!"

Sylar's eyes widened. Rain? Don't think it. Don't think it. Oh god...Peter in the rain, drops running down his skin...

The pole struck him on his upper arm and he winced. But just beyond the pain lay another, much more useful, emotion: anger.

He ignored the man's latest word and waited for the blow to come. As it did he pushed it back mentally, his telekinesis finally coming in handy. The pole broke.

"Cheat," the man said but he was grinning.

For some reason Sylar grinned back.

The man held his hand out for Sylar to shake, which he did. "Claude Rains. Pleased to finally meet you."

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**I'm sure all of you guessed that before the end. **

**Review please. It is always appreciated. **


	3. Manipulation

**Author's Note: You may get a bit confused at the start but don't worry everything clears up. Hopefully. If I've got anything wrong, I apologise and have only this to say: I don't care. This is just so AU I'm going to go with it. Oh, and um, yeah, maybe I should have mentioned this before: this is SLASH. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Angel**

**__________________________________________________________________________________**

_Thump, thump._

They lay entwined in the sheets, Peter's head resting sleepily on Sylar's chest.

"I like the hotel room, by the way," Peter murmured. "Courtesy of Wolfram and Hart, I believe?"

Sylar chuckled sleepily. "Yeah. One thing those evil bloodsucking lawyers have is taste. Who knew?" He ran his fingers through Peter's hair as the younger man tapped his chest rhythmically.

_Thump, thump._

"Peter?"

He didn't stop tapping, only turned his head so he could look Sylar in the eye. "Mmm?"

"Why are you tapping on my chest?" he asked, the laughter palpable in his voice.

Peter laid his head back in its previous position. "Your heartbeat," he whispered. Sylar felt his breath on his skin. "It's perfect."

_Thump, thump._

Sylar was silent for a moment. "Don't ever leave me, okay?"

Peter moved so that he could kiss Sylar softly.

"Never."

Sylar woke, gasping for air. He sat up slowly, running his fingers through his semi-drenched hair. He gazed around the room and whimpered. Why did he keep dreaming about Peter? He didn't feel that way about the moron...did he?

He took a deep, if shaky, breath. No wonder Claude – and everyone else, it seemed – thought he was obsessed with the idiot.

He remembered Claude asking him if he could explain why his first thought was always of Peter. For some strange, inexplicable reason he felt he could tell Claude. So he did. Well, not _everything_. He just said that a few months ago he'd begun to have very vivid dreams about Peter.

Claude had, of course, asked for more detail but Sylar didn't say anything more. His silence appeared to be enough of an answer for the invisible man. He gazed at Sylar, thoughtfully.

Sylar was sure Claude was about to say something (probably very important) when Lorne came in.

He remembered the green demon, former host of Caritas, fondly. He'd heard about Lorne's ability to read people when they sang and, wanting to know the location of the Walker family, had gone there when he first arrived in L.A. He'd sang _Bad to the Bone_ (a song choice Lorne had thought particularly fitting at the time) and then Lorne had given him the location, offering him a rather cryptic warning to go with it because, he said, he liked him. He'd said that going after the Walkers would lead him down a path of destruction, the likes of which even Lorne himself had never seen. Sylar had ignored the warning, as he did most of the time.

Lorne looked positively delighted to see Sylar again. "Tall, Dark and Handsome, why didn't you tell me you were in town?" he said cheerfully as Claude tried to hide a smirk. "We should have drinks sometime. You could sing to me. It'll be like old times."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "You're not getting me that easily. You just want to know if I've changed my wicked, wicked ways."

Lorne inclined his head. "Well, yes," he said simply and then grinned. "But don't we all, sweetcheeks? You're a very important person in the whole scheme of things. I knew that the _first _time I read you."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Fine, if I must." He didn't really mind. Lorne was a pretty fun guy, when you came right down to it. He glanced over at Claude. "Wanna come with?"

Claude shrugged. "Don't really have anything better to do."

They found themselves at one of the numerous karaoke demon bars in L.A. where Sylar became roaring drunk because he knew what he had to look forward to that night and was trying to delay it. Claude and Lorne watched with amusement.

Lorne patted him on the shoulder. He looked around blearily. "It's time, Sylar," Lorne said and pushed him gently up onto the stage. There was a whispered conversation between Sylar and the guy in change of the music and then Sylar was standing in front of the microphone.

As he began singing _Shakin'_ by the Dandy Warhols Lorne's eyes widened noticeably. "Oh dear," he said under his breath, loud enough for Claude to hear. "The boy's really got it bad."

Claude raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

Lorne shook his head sadly. "Ask Peter," he said simply. Claude vanished swiftly, probably taking Lorne's advice to heart.

Sylar stepped off the stage a few minutes later, a huge grin plastered to his face. He succeeded in tripping over his own feet at least twice before finally making it back to his seat. He blinked slowly at the empty seat next to his. "Where'd Claude go?"

Lorne waved his hand vaguely. "Had some business to take care of. Now," he added, his tone turning serious. "When did you first start having these dreams?"

Sylar blinked at him. "Uh..." His brow furrowed as he thought. It hurt his head to think but finally he said, "At least two months ago. Why?" He shifted uneasily.

Lorne just gazed at him, sympathy in his red eyes.

He'd fallen into the hotel bed, asleep in an instant. In his dream Peter was angry for some reason, he thought because he'd kept him waiting.

"I'm sorry," he said, something he hadn't said for awhile now. Peter immediately softened.

And then they were kissing and nothing really mattered except for that.

Sylar laid his head back down on the soft white pillow. It was very hard to hate the dreams while he was having them.

Peter, standing at end of the bed, invisible, watched him falling gently back to sleep, a small smile on his face.

"Kid, what do you think you're doing?" He jumped at the sound of Claude's voice and spun around, glaring.

"What do you mean, what do I think I'm doing?" Peter said petulantly. He scowled. "I'm not doing anything."

Claude merely rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, and I'm Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Right. So what do you call fucking up this guy's mind so that all he can really think about is you then? A hobby?"

Peter tensed and then relaxed, his eyes sad. "It's not a hobby. And it didn't start out like that. I was just..." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair tiredly. "I was just, I don't know, trying to help him, trying to make him see that he could be a better person."

"Having sex with him every night does that?" Claude was sceptical. No wonder, really. "My, my. You learn something new every day."

"That's not how it started," Peter said angrily. "It just somehow...turned out that way."

"Well, I think you should stop," the invisible man said coldly. "The poor guy's been manipulated enough as it is. Give him a break and stick to the plan."

Peter had every intention of following his ex-mentor's very sound advice. Absolutely. And then he remembered how Sylar had sounded when he'd said, "Don't ever leave me, okay?"

So he didn't.

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**Aww, Peter's being a bad boy. **

**Next time: see Sylar walk into a door!**

**Review please. They are like kittens to me. **


	4. Fred

**Author's Note: I introduce another character in this! Yay! Hope you enjoy this tiny, tiny chapter. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Angel**

**__________________________________________________________________________________**

Over the next few days nothing much happened. Claude tried to find out whether his little chat with Peter had had any effect by staring very intently at Sylar. This only made Sylar a little freaked out. Actually a lot freaked out. So much so that he took to avoiding the invisible man and hanging out with either Spike or Lorne.

When he could find them, that is. That was what he was trying to do now but, wouldn't you know it? Wolfram and Hart was like a bloody maze, twisting corridors and far too many doors. It was no wonder he was lost only two minutes into arriving.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Peter. His mouth fell open. Thank god no one was actually looking at him. He probably looked like a fricking idiot. He blinked and shook his head slightly but no, Peter was still there. He appeared to be talking to...why, that bastard! He was talking to none other than Spike!

He growled and moved forward slowly, distracted by thoughts of tearing and biting and...oops, wrong thoughts.

He was so distracted, however, that he wasn't able to stop himself from smashing into a door that had opened right in front of him. He fell down, his head pounding. He hurt. A lot.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry!" a sweet voice said from above. "I didn't even see ya there."

He looked up into the face of an angel, albeit one carrying far too many folders which she had, miraculously (but then, she _was _an angel), managed to keep a hold of.

She laughed self-deprecatingly. "Well, of course I didn't. Me, I can't see through walls." She held out her hand and pulled Sylar to his feet. "I'm Fred, by the way. Winifred Burkle. But most people, they call me Fred."

"I'm...Sylar," he said, his head still pounding. Or was that something else? And when had he started thinking that his name was utter crap? "Nice to meet you."

The light in her eyes seemed to dim and then brighten again as though information had just rushed across her mind. "Oh," she said, smiling. "I've heard of you. Peter said I might see you. Weren't you looking for redemption or something? At least that's...what...I...remember..." She trailed off, her eyes widening. She hadn't meant to say quite that much.

Sylar's brown eyes were impossibly cold. He quickly forgot about pretty angel Fred as he moved swiftly down the corridor to where he'd last seen Peter speaking to (that traitor) Spike. He _knew _he'd been right. He'd known Peter was behind this from the start.

His hands clenched tightly into fists, he strode around the corner...and then quickly backtracked when he heard Claude say, his voice cold, "I hope you took my advice, Peter. After all, this was your plan to begin with. We don't need any mistakes."

He heard Peter sigh. In fact, it felt like it whispered against his cheek. He half closed his eyes and tried not to groan at the thoughts which bombarded him. He turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"...I just couldn't," Peter was saying, sounding disappointed in himself and disgusted with his weakness. "He asked me never to leave him." There was a pause as Peter shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't, not after that."

Sylar blinked. What? But that had just been a dream. Hadn't it? He frowned and decided to think about _that _particular piece of information another time.

Spike took a drag on his cigarette and breathed out the smoke, watching the patterns it made absently. "Well, I don't see what the problem is," he said. "I don't think it's doing him any harm. In fact," he added, far too cryptically for the two men's liking. "I think it's doing him good."

Sylar gritted his teeth. If Spike so much as said another word he'd...

"Excuse me?" Fred said softly from behind him, as though she knew he was eavesdropping. He turned around slowly, not really wanting to talk to the woman he'd, only moments ago, thought of as an angel.

"Yes?" he said shortly.

"I'm really sorry if I said anything that offended ya," she said, her face twisted into an expression of embarrassment. "I'm not really that great around people." There was that self-deprecating laugh again. "And, really," she added, clutching the folders in her hands tightly. "Disregard anything I said back there. I mean, apparently I have this tendency to babble around incredibly hot guys, right, and anything I say is probably completely untrue." She nodded solemnly and then glanced over at him shyly.

He couldn't help but grin at her. Really, she was just too cute. "Probably?"

She blushed. Too cute was exactly right. He lifted the folders out of her arms gently. She looked surprised but didn't fight him. "Now, where do you want me to put these?" he asked, indicating the folders with a nod of his head.

She smiled. "Follow me."

He did so delightedly, thoughts of Peter, the fact that he seemed to know about the dreams and his ultimate plan deliberately pushed to the back of his mind. For now, at least.

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**Aww, Fred. She really is the sweetest. **

**Review please. **


	5. Payback

**Author's Note: Sylar decides to get a little payback...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Angel**

**__________________________________________________________________________________**

Fred showed him her lab and pointed out many of things that interested her. She even, a blush tinting her cheeks, told him that she sometimes named them. He really found her too cute for words.

So that was where Angel found him a few days later, helping Fred with a particularly difficult experiment, his super hearing coming in handy as she dropped tiny particles onto the surface of the only wooden bench in the room. He watched Sylar and Fred interact, a small smile gracing his otherwise taciturn face. Peter's plan was working far better than he'd imagined. Although, technically, introducing Sylar to Fred (albeit 'accidentally') had been Spike's idea. He had to admit, although grudgingly, that Spike was more intelligent that he looked.

He waited a moment and, when he saw that the experiment was coming to a close, cleared his throat. Sylar didn't so much as blink at the sudden noise although it made Fred jump and spin around, only to blush when she realised it was only Angel.

"Is it alright if I take Sylar off your hands for a minute, Fred?" he asked, smiling. "We need him for something.

Sylar's dark eyes grew wary but he followed after Angel when Fred gave her approval. She gazed after them for a while and then resumed her work, humming softly.

Angel brought him down to one of the basement training rooms, after an uncomfortably silent elevator ride. Angel had thought he would say something and yet no words came to mind. He decided instead to remain silent. It would, at the very least, increase the serial killer's dislike in him which was always fun.

Claude, who had been leaning against a wall speaking quietly to Spike, straightened when they entered the room. Grinning (he did have a particularly sick sense of humour), he handed Angel a very sharp looking sword as well as a wooden pole which looked similar to the one he had used to beat up Sylar, who winced at the memory. He'd been several different shades of black and blue for at least two days after that session.

Sylar wondered absently as Angel circled him why their idea of redeeming him appeared to be to beat him with sharp objects until he collapsed or grew angry.

Angel thrust the sword towards him while simultaneously moving the pole so that it could potentially trip him up. He dodged the sword, although not by much, and used his telekinesis to push the pole away.

This went on for some time, the vampire seemingly filled with unlimited strength and stamina while Sylar gradually grew weaker with every passing moment. When Angel finally managed to graze him with the sword he almost gave up. Almost. Somehow he couldn't give up though, not with everyone watching. And anyway, thanks to Claire, the graze healed instantly.

The pole came out of nowhere, striking him behind the knees and he collapsed. His breath was noisy in his ear, much louder than it had been a moment ago. He felt Angel raise the sword above his head, preparing to strike. He roared his rage at his unexpected humiliation and rose up, almost floating even though his feet were planted firmly on the ground.

He gestured and the sword flew towards the wall. Spike and Claude scattered as it struck the space between them, wobbled for an instant and then was still. Angel's brows rose in surprise and he gripped the pole.

The pole flew out his grip and snapped in the air. Sylar, his eyes blazing, grabbed one of the ends out of the air and threw it towards the vampire who had begun to seriously piss him off, aiming directly at the heart. He pushed it mentally with his telekinesis, strengthening its speed.

It stopped half way there as though it had collided with a wall. Sylar pushed even harder, beads of sweat appearing on his face. He felt the invisible wall give way little by little.

"Sylar..." a familiar voice whispered and he felt a hand on his chest, his cheek, through his hair. He shuddered, a sigh raking through him. The pole dropped to the ground, although he didn't notice.

He half closed his eyes and growled softly in his throat. Really, Peter was going to pay for interrupting him and, using the information he'd garnered from that conversation he'd eavesdropped on, he knew exactly what to do.

Claude was also not pleased with Peter's interruption and yelled at him for nearly an hour as Spike smirked nearby. Angel merely went back to work. Really, he didn't understand why someone else couldn't have done that. He'd almost feared for his life.

That night, just as with any night for the past two months, Sylar's head hit the pillow and he was immediately dreaming.

He was standing in the middle of his hotel bedroom, looking at Peter who was sitting on the bed, a small smile on his face. He felt very happy and almost couldn't go through with his plan. He reminded himself that this happiness wasn't real, that Peter was merely inducing it, probably using that telepathy he'd sponged off the ex-L.A. cop.

"Peter, wake me up," he said, trying to keep his voice as cold and un-mushy as he could. He thought he succeeded.

Peter stood up and walked towards him. "But aren't you happy?" he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

He bunched his hands into fists, his fingernails drawing blood. "Yes," he said, through clenched teeth. "But only because you're making me feel that way. Outside these dreams I hate you." Liar. He resisted the urge to kiss Peter's very inviting mouth.

Sylar felt fingers caress him even though he could clearly see Peter was a few feet away. "As you wish..."

His eyes snapped open. Peter's face was inches from his. The word 'distance' was sorely lacking since it usually described some sort of space and it really could not be said that there was that much space between them. He tried very hard not to move.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered. He hadn't realised that Peter would be in the room with him, let alone that he'd be this close. He watched his plan disappear down the metaphorical drain hole.

Peter just smiled. "I can leave if you want."

He felt the grip on his arms tighten. Sylar didn't want him to leave even though that had been the whole _point _to his entire plan. Well, that and a little revenge. Neither appeared to be close at hand.

Sylar didn't say anything however, merely watched him with wary eyes. "You..." he hissed awhile later when he could trust himself to beg. "...are going to pay for this."

Peter pouted and caressed his cheek with a fingertip, murmuring, "Oh, poor baby."

Sylar half closed his eyes and tried very hard not to moan (thus giving Peter exactly what he wanted, he thought). He _hated _this. Or, well, actually he loved it, although that fact was going to stay buried deep.

And then Peter leaned down and whispered in his ear.

That was it. His self-control was but a distant memory after that.

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**Self-control should be thrown to the wind when it comes to these two. Mark my words. It would make for some interesting entertainment. **

**Review please. **


	6. The Plan

**Author's Note: You may think Sylar suddenly changes his personality in this but actually he doesn't. Really, what **_**did **_**Peter expect?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Angel**

**__________________________________________________________________________________**

Angel gazed into the room. He spoke to the only other man in the room. "So, Wes, how's the Plan coming along? All ready?" He'd always been very good at capitalising words. There's a lot you can learn with two hundred years free time. Darla had been pretty good at it as well.

Wesley glanced up from his examination. "As ready as we'll ever be. I hope you're not expecting miracles. You and Peter only gave me a month, after all." He turned back to his examination, tinkered a bit and then stood up straight. "How's that, Sara?"

Sara grinned at him. "Lovely, Wesley. You know I love it when you tinker with me," she said, her voice reminiscent of Britney Spears and other pop princesses in their better days. She winked. He smiled.

Angel gazed at her. It was strange to think of such a girly voice emanating from such a monstrosity. Sara was a demon, but not just any demon. She was the most horrifying sight he'd seen in his two hundred plus years. And, let me tell you, he'd seen some horrifying things. He'd committed a few of them. Yet she was a huge fan of the Jonas Brothers. Sometimes you can't judge a book by its terrifying-scales-and-bones-outside-of-body cover.

"Well..." Angel clapped his hands together. "I'll leave you to it."

Wesley nodded. Then he held up a hand, making Angel pause. "Oh, have you talked to Fred yet? She said she had something important to tell you."

Angel swept out of the room, heading in the direction of Fred's laboratory.

Sara gazed after him. "He really knows how to make a dramatic exit, doesn't he?" she said wistfully.

"Believe me, it takes a lot of practice," Wesley commented. "Now, can you move that intestine for me? I have to check something."

***

Sylar gazed at the ceiling. It was a very interesting ceiling. Oh, who was he kidding? It was the most boring ceiling he'd ever seen in his life. At least the one in that Company cell occasionally had cracks. This one was flawless and thus gave him nothing to do.

Peter gazed at Sylar. He wanted to touch his face but he didn't know whether this would lead into more wonderful things like last night or whether Sylar would bite his head off. He decided to check first. "Sylar?"

Sylar turned his gaze from the ceiling to Peter. Finally, a less boring thing to stare at! "Hmm?"

"Can I touch you?"

Sylar blinked. "Uh, you don't have to ask, Peter. After last night..." He grinned wickedly at the memory.

Peter grinned back and ran his fingers through Sylar's hair. Sylar stifled a moan. "It's just that...you...I mean, I've been basically using you these past few months and..." He shrugged awkwardly, not really sure how to continue.

"And what? It's not as if I haven't been used before," Sylar said, shrugging. He brought Peter's hand back to his hair and directed Peter's fingers to run through his hair.

Peter's grip on his hair tightened. "But..." Peter swallowed. "I don't want to use you," he said fiercely. "I want...I want..." He struggled for the right words. "I want _you_."

"I want you too, Peter," Sylar said, smiling softly. He reached over Peter into the bedside table drawer. He pulled out a knife and held it to Peter's throat. "Now I also want you to tell me _exactly _what you have planned for me or I'm going to slit your throat," he added, his voice just as soft as his smile. "Oh, I know you'll heal but you'll feel a hell of a lot of pain along the way. So? What's it to be?"

Peter looked devastated. Really, what had he expected? That dreaming about him would magically make Sylar a better person? He really was full of himself if he thought that. Sylar shook his head inwardly at Peter's gullibility.

Peter gave him one last glance and then disappeared from under him. Sylar cursed and stabbed the pillow. He'd forgotten about that one. His grip on the knife tightened, his knuckles slowly turning white. Next time Peter was not going to get away so easily.

***

"Fred?" Angel said, stepping into what he thought was an empty laboratory. "Are you...here?"

Silence greeted him. Great, just great. Where else could she be, other than her lab?

"Angel?" she said from behind him.

He _did not _jump. He turned slowly and looked down at her. "Wes said you had something important to tell me?"

Fred blinked and then smiled. "Oh yes, that. You know what I've been working on, right?"

Angel nodded. "Some sort of formula, wasn't it? In case the Plan didn't work?"

She nodded and moved around him, heading towards the middle of the room. She had a folder in her hand, which she placed on the table in the centre of the room. She opened it and beckoned to him. "Well, it looks as though we might need a catalyst to really make it work. I was talking to Dr Suresh and he agrees. No catalyst, no formula." She glanced up at him.

"Does he know what this catalyst thing could be?" he asked, flicking through the folder slowly. He stopped on a certain page and gazed at the photo of a blonde girl which took up half the page. He glanced over at her, one eyebrow raised. "Oh. Her, is it?"

Fred grinned winningly. "We think so."

He was silent. "You're not just saying this so I'll bring her here, are you?" he said finally.

She pouted. "Now, I wouldn't be _that _obvious, would I? Not little ole me..."

Angel gazed at her. "Right..." He sighed. "Well, I'll send for her. She might not be able to come, of course," he added, a note of warning in his voice.

Fred hugged him, bouncing as she did so. "Of course, of course! Thanks!"

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**Ooh, who could it be? And why is Fred so excited? Hmmm, find out next chapter!**

**Review please. **


	7. Where The Hell Is Peter?

**Author's Note: I haven't updated this in ages. Anyway, again I warn: slash. Don't like, don't read. Simple, ain't it? Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Angel**

**__________________________________________________________________________________**

Peter appeared, gasping, in his own hotel room, in his own bed. He felt the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes but ignored them. He wasn't going to cry. That was too pathetic, even for him. But, oh, how he wanted to.

He felt disappointment take up permanent residence in his stomach and knew he wouldn't be able to eat anything without feeling like hurling it for at least a couple of hours. He'd been so sure...Last night had been...well, he hated to admit it now, but last night had been the most wonderful night of his life. Now he felt like shit and oh so stupid.

He banged his head slowly against the pillow. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Bennet had said not to expect miracles; his own brother had looked at him as though he was a nutcase. Maybe Claude was right. What he'd been doing wasn't right (no matter how it made him feel as though it was). And for the first time in his stupid, pathetic life he'd been the one using, not the one being used.

He decided to stay in bed today. There was nothing planned...or at least nothing that other people couldn't do better, without him. He buried himself in the sheets and died quietly inside.

***

She walked through the doors of Wolfram and Hart, her gaze taking in everything it possibly could. Being a Slayer helped immensely. It helped with a lot of things, though. It had brought purpose to an otherwise pointless existence. It had brought her to people like her. It had brought her Fred.

She grinned as the aforementioned woman rushed towards her. "I've missed you, baby," she said, before kissing Fred as passionately as she possibly could. Being a Slayer also meant never knowing when she'd get to see Fred again.

"Claire," Fred said breathlessly a moment later, as the people around them hid grins and hurriedly got back to work. "I've missed you too." She leaned her forehead against Claire's own and smiled shyly. "A lot has happened since y'all were here last." She glanced behind Claire at others gathered in the lobby, gazing about them with wide eyed amazement.

Claire grinned. "I'm sure it has. Peter's still into the whole redemption thing though, isn't he?"

"Sure is."

Claire shook her head. "Some things never change." She glanced around as though expecting the empath to immediately appear. "Where is he, by the way?"

Fred pouted. "I'm not good enough for you anymore, is that it?"

The others hid smirks as Claire kissed her again, silencing any mock protests. They broke apart, breathless and Claire gestured to them. "Maybe I should introduce you?"

Fred ducked her head, grinning. "Well, I already know some of them." She waved to a dark skinned man near the back. "Hey, Dr Suresh."

He waved back, saying in a stern voice, "What have I told you about calling me Mohinder?"

"Sorry, couldn't resist." They grinned at each other and then Mohinder began talking about genetics and some other things Claire never understood, even when they were explained to her by someone as marvellous as her girlfriend. He drew her away from the group, Fred squeezing Claire's hand before moving away.

Claire gazed at the group and shrugged. "I guess we should go see the Boss Man."

Spike, who had been standing nearby, extinguished a cigarette in a potted plant, much to the disgust of one of the secretaries, and moved forward. "You probably need a guide then. This place can get pretty confusing."

Claire grinned and was about to rush towards the blonde vampire when someone bet her to the punch.

"Spike!" Lyle rushed forward and he and Spike did a complicated hand shake, which remind Claire of the one Lindsay Lohan did in that Parent Trap movie remake. She and the others tried and failed to hide their smirks.

Spike ruffled the kid's hair, something he knew Lyle hated and thus did at every opportunity he could. "How's it going, kid? Keeping out of trouble?"

Lyle grinned. "Oh, you know me. Trouble's never that far behind." He had known Spike for years, long before his sister became a Slayer. But then he'd run a secret organisation behind his family's back for longer than that. Keeping the knowledge that he knew vampires existed and that he was actually friendly with some was a piece of cake after that. Ooh, cake... "Got any cake?" Yes, Lyle was pretty much a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy, plus or minus the occasional secret organisation.

Spike grinned at his friend's sudden need for cake. From what he could see of the others, cake wouldn't go amiss with them either.

So that was why each of them, except Spike, was carrying a piece of chocolate cake (stolen from the cafeteria) when they finally made their way to Angel's office.

"Claire," Angel said warmly. "It's good to see you." He paused, waiting.

The ex-cheerleader sighed, rolling her eyes. "Buffy's fine. Anything you'd like me to tell her?" She waited barely a second before continuing. "Good. Now, let's get down to business. How's Peter's little plan going? Everything going swimmingly? And what's this about me being some sort of catalyst?"

Angel looked pleadingly at the others. He'd been around for two hundred plus years but he'd never meet anyone like Claire Bennet before. She always came on far too strong. Thankfully she didn't have his skill of capitalising certain words, otherwise he'd be feeling very emasculated right about now.

Lyle sighed. He knew his sister. Spike merely smirked.

"The Plan," Angel began slowly, "is going fine. Phase One is already complete. Wes is working on Phase Two. And you'd do better to ask Fred and Dr Suresh about that whole catalyst nonsense."

Claire nodded. "And where is my lovely ex-uncle?"

"I don't know. He hasn't come in today." He shrugged. He had a feeling he knew where Peter was but he really didn't feel like sharing.

The door opened behind them. They turned to see Sylar enter. He seemed surprised to see them there. Angel frowned. Okay, Sylar was there but where was Peter?

Andrew did semi-impressive arm movements. "So, Sylar, we meet again," he said in the storyteller tone of voice he used whenever he didn't want to sound totally stupid.

Sylar raised an eyebrow. Lyle elbowed Spike in the side. "You were right," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "They _are _impressive."

"Hello, Andrew," Sylar said hesitantly. Andrew's enthusiasm for him had always left him slightly off-guard and with an almost overwhelming need to scrub himself. "So good to see you again." He turned his attention to the others and caught sight of Claire.

"Claire." He nodded, as though to a respected adversary.

"Sylar." She returned the nod. "Still a power-stealing psycho?"

He shrugged. "It depends. You still a tight-assed Slayer bitch?"

She grinned. "Am I ever anything else?"

He blinked. She seemed to have acquired a sense of humour since the last time he'd seen her. He frowned. Wait. Fred...oh god. She was _Claire's _Fred. He felt a bit silly at not realising that sooner.

"Now, I suppose you'll be able to tell me since he's never very far behind," Claire continued. Angel smirked. He wasn't the only one who noticed it then. "Where's Peter?"

Sylar blinked, surprised. "He isn't here already?" Dammit. He could have stayed in bed if he'd known Peter wasn't going to be here. Now they'd probably lock him in a room again and bash him with sticks, as per usual. _And _he'd have to wait a little bit longer until the next time he had the opportunity to question Peter again. Dammit.

Claire glanced over at Angel, who shook his head. She turned back to Sylar. "No, he isn't." She frowned. "Which is weird, now that I come to think about it. We could basically count on him being anywhere you were, give or take a few feet."

Sylar filed this piece of information into the questions-I-will-ask-Peter-later folder. He made to leave the room when one of the group gathered around Angel's desk spoke up.

"I could find him for you," the girl once known simply as the Walker Tracking System said. She sniffed in Sylar's general direction. "I can do that, you know."

"Hello, Molly," the murderer of her parents said weakly. What was it with these people and making him uncomfortable? "What have you been up to?"

Molly shrugged. "Oh, this and that. Got injected with some potion thing that negated all my powers (really irritating, that was), got them back, went to India, saved the world a couple of times. You know, the usual."

"Yeah, that negating-powers-potion thing can be a bitch," Sylar said, knowing from personal experience. He gazed at her, curious. "Are you a Slayer too?"

She snorted. "God, no. That's Claire and Monica's show." She shrugged. "No, I'm just someone they thought they should bring along, just in case." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Just because I'm all friendly right now, doesn't mean I forgive you for what you did to my parents, is that clear?"

Sylar raised his hands in mock surrender. "Crystal." He grinned wickedly. "Should I watch my back?"

She glared at him then sniffed, turning away. She wasn't even going to give that undeserving question a response. A verbal one, anyway.

Claire tapped her fingers impatiently against Angel's desk. "Now that that's all taken care of," she said, the sarcasm rife in her voice. "Where the hell is Peter?"

"Got a map?" Molly replied instantly. Angel retrieved one from one of his desk's drawers.

After a moment she glanced up. A puzzled expression suffused her innocent face. "Okay, _that _was weird."

Strangely, at least to Claire's way of thinking, it was Sylar who asked, "Weird how?"

Molly looked up at him. "I know where he is and," she added, the puzzlement now reaching her voice, "I know what he's doing. That's never happened before."

"What is he doing?" Sylar asked, not caring about anything except that Peter might be doing something stupid. Not that that was entirely unusual but what _was _unusual was that he was worried.

"He's _sulking_."

Sylar blinked.

It was Claire who said, "Wait. What?"

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**Ooh, and who will get Peter out of his sulky mood? I'm afraid that will have to wait until the next chapter. Sorry, folks!**

**Review please. They are like kittens and anyone who knows me knows I love kittens. **


	8. Enjoyment

**Author's Note: I update! Yay! Aren't you proud? Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Angel**

**__________________________________________________________________________________**

Peter lay in bed, listlessly flicking through the channels. He eventually stopped on a rerun of _Charmed_ and watched Phoebe and Cole have yet another messy break up with an expression of mild interest on his otherwise indifferent face.

He sighed. He wondered what the others were up to. He vaguely remembered that some important people were coming today but couldn't rummage up enough effort to search his brain and find out who exactly it was. Another sigh escaped his lips.

He heard a door slam, frowned momentarily since it was the most interesting thing that had happened all day, and then dismissed it as unimportant. He was just about to switch channels – a _reality show _had come on – when his bedroom door crashed open.

Sylar stood there, looking incredibly pissed. Peter berated himself for finding this development exciting, blamed it on the fact that nothing exciting had, in fact, happened that day (certainly odd in his ordinary life – interesting things were _always _happening to him). He decided to ignore the hitch in his breath when Sylar grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close. That couldn't mean anything.

His bemused brown eyes met Sylar's murky, wrath filled ones. "You are so fucking _dead_," Sylar hissed in his face. "What the hell are you doing here, Peter? And _sulking_? Are you twelve?"

Peter glared at him and pulled away, huffing indignantly. "Am I not allowed to have a personal day?" He winced inwardly at his tone. Had he always sounded this whiny? "And, anyway, why do you care?" That was actually a good question. He decided to roll with it. "Why are _you _here, Sylar?"

Sylar smirked at him, and Peter tried very hard to resist the urge to knock him on his ass. "I'm here to finish our little conversation," he said, his silky voice making Peter shiver, whether in a good way or not he didn't know. "You disappeared so quickly before."

Peter decided to disappear just as quickly now...and found he couldn't. He stared, open mouthed, at a pleased Sylar, who continued to smirk at him.

"Oh, yes, you've probably realised by now that you can't teleport," he said, laughing slightly. "Sometimes those lawyers are _so _helpful. Now that you can't leave, I think it only fair you answer my questions..." His eyes twinkled, something Peter found very disconcerting. "Added to which is why the hell Claire Bennet and her entourage are here."

At this Peter remembered who was to be arriving today. Why couldn't Claire have been the one to come and find him? But then Sylar had always been just that little bit faster. And, now that he thought about it, he kind of preferred Sylar to his ex-niece. Sometimes Claire could be scarier than the serial killer, ever since she'd discovered she was a Slayer.

He shrugged. "Probably come to see Fred, how the hell should I know?"

Sylar growled, giving Peter rather pleasant flashbacks to the night before. "Stop _lying _to me, Peter. I really _hate _it when people lie to me. I tend to get..." The lamp shade on the left bedside table exploded, tiny pieces embedding themselves in the walls. "...violent."

Peter grinned. Okay, so he had to admit he was enjoying himself. Of course it could just been the remains of the feelings the flashbacks had conjured up. "My, my, aren't we testy today? Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?" He smirked as Sylar glared at him.

"You are a bastard, Peter Petrelli," he said, fists clenching.

Peter smiled. "Takes one to know one."

His fingers relaxed and, to Peter's utter amazement, he returned the smile. "Tell me why you want to help me, Peter. I want to understand..." He sat on the bed, far enough away so that Peter felt some semblance of safety, although, with Sylar, being on opposite sides of the country didn't necessarily mean you were safe from him.

"I...saw the man you could become," Peter said hesitantly then shrugged. He'd started now. It didn't really feel fair to stop there. "I...liked what I saw, frankly."

Sylar stared at him, expressionless. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe, while you were trying to help me in your – let's face it – horribly inept way, you were pushing me further from that path?"

Peter gazed down at his feet, covered in the blanket. They were nice and cosy. "All the time," he whispered. He abruptly glanced up to glare at him. "I know my plans aren't exactly the greatest – one or two could have used a little fine tuning..."

He heard Sylar mutter, "Ya think?" but ignored him. "...and I know I'm not exactly the smartest guy in the world but I...just wanted to help," he finished lamely. That wasn't the only reason but he didn't really want to go into detail. He had the feeling he would embarrass himself immensely. "And I thought..."

"...that I'd changed?" Sylar asked, and he sounded surprisingly gentle. He grinned when Peter glanced up, surprised. "I hate to break it to you but things just don't happen overnight..." He paused. "Or over two months, as the case may be."

Sylar was suddenly _there_, right in front of him, his warm breath tickling Peter's cheek. "And this," he said, his fingers ghosting over Peter's increasingly warm skin. "...is why you shouldn't trust me at all."

"Nope, never," Peter agreed, feeling very giddy indeed. He tried very hard to keep a silly grin off his face. "I'll never trust you," he whispered into Sylar's neck as the very man nibbled on his earlobe.

"Then what are you doing right now?" Sylar asked softly, beginning to trail kisses along Peter's cheekbones. "This feels a lot like trusting..."

"No, this is _wanting_," Peter said, watching his fingers as they ran through Sylar's hair. "There's a difference."

He felt Sylar smile. "Aren't you scared that I might draw a knife on you again?" was whispered into the hollow of his throat. Peter made a sound that could possibly be called a moan.

"Are you going to?" he asked, almost all coherent thoughts having flown the coop. Emotions like fear had followed soon after.

Sylar's hair tickled his chest as the older man shook his head. "Not at the moment. I'm enjoying myself too much."

"That makes two of us."

Sylar glanced up abruptly and the look in his eyes made Peter shiver in a _very _good way. "But you _are _going to tell me all about your plans afterwards," he said, his voice so slurred with lust the words were almost indistinguishable. "Aren't you, Peter?"

Peter nodded impatiently. He would have agreed to anything just to get the man to _hurry up_.

***

"Harmony, where did Sylar go?" Angel asked, staring down at his assistant, his eyes hard as rock.

She jumped, lowered her slurpie and glanced up. "Uh, what, boss?" A look of understanding dawned. It was very noticeable. "Oh, him." She shrugged. "Rushed out of your office awhile ago, didn't really stop and chat." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "If you ask me, he's gone off after that Peter Petrelli guy. Everyone's talking about them." She raised her eyebrows and then went back to work.

Angel sighed. He really didn't need this. Secretly he wondered if it was too much to hope for Peter and Sylar to kill each other. He turned around and came face to face with Spike, who smirked. "Gone off after empath boy, has he?" He shrugged. "Not very surprising."

Angel narrowed his eyes. "Is there something you're not telling me, Spike?" He gritted his teeth. Talking to Spike, even if it was for as little as a second or two, always set him on edge.

Spike smirked even wider. "Uh...nope, not that I can think of." He paused. "Well, maybe that you've got one pissed off Slayer in your office and I think you'd better get in there quick and try to placate her."

"Why don't you do that, if you're so clever?" Angel snapped.

"Oh, but I'm not the boss," the blonde vampire said, enjoying himself immensely. He _loved _winding Angel up. It was practically his favourite sport. He moved off, turning back to say, "I'll just go and see how our Fred is doing."

Spike chuckled to himself as Angel re-entered his office and then moved off to do just what he'd said he was going to do. He found Fred in her lab, talking intensely with Dr. Suresh as that slimy assistant of hers – what was his name, anyway? – hovered nearby. She smiled at him, distracted, and turned her attention back to the doctor.

He left, deciding to visit Wesley and his rather weird project. He bumped into Lyle as he exited Fred's lab. "What the hell are you do here, squirt?" he said, pissed that the kid had managed to scare him just a little.

Lyle ignored the 'squirt' comment and grinned at him. "Just wondering what you were doing," he said. "You're much more interesting than Claire and her Slayer buddies, believe me."

"Don't worry, kid, I do," Spike said absently, trying to concentrate on finding his way down to Wesley. They finally reached the room in question and entered. Spike smirked at Lyle's quick, "What the--"

Sara turned to face them. "Hey," she said in her pop princess sugary voice. Lyle blinked, rubbed his eyes a few times. Her eyes brightened. "Spike, you brought a friend."

"Yeah, this is Lyle," he said, glancing around but finding no sign of Wesley. "Where's Wesley?"

She shrugged and watched out of the corner of her eye as Lyle sidled up to her and prodded her curiously. "Don't know. I think he's checking something with Gunn."

"Well, if you see him, tell him that Angel is probably going to be coming down here to check his progress," he said, smiling at her. "And new friends for you to meet, obviously." His smile widened into a full on sadistic grin. "Why don't you show Lyle here what you can do?"

Sara grinned, clapped her hands excitedly. Wesley rarely let her do what she wanted. Her body began to shiver in front of Lyle's surprised eyes. It shimmered, shifting into a far less outlandish form. A familiar shape too.

His astonished gray eyes met the eyes of his father. "Dad...?" he whispered. He could have sworn his Dad was over in England with the other Watchers. He rubbed his eyes, but no, his Dad was still there, grinning at him. That helped a little. A shapeshifter wouldn't know that his father rarely smiled, let alone grinned.

"Lyle," the shapeshifter pretending to be his father said, his grin vanishing. _Now _he looked more like Noah Bennet. "What do you think?" The grin appeared again and he did a very un-Noah-like twirl. "Cool, huh?" The shape shimmered for a moment and then Sara was standing in front of him.

He gazed at her. "You're part of the Plan, aren't you?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She grinned, twirled again. This process on her original form was very fascinating – and slightly nauseating – to see. "Yup."

"Well..." Lyle rubbed his hands together. "Anyone for more cake?"

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**I tossed up between Sylar or Claire going to him but eventually settled on Sylar 'cause I'm such a Pylar freak sometimes. Hope you enjoyed. **

**Review please. **


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